The Courtship of Amy Cahill
by SpaghettiGirl
Summary: Ian was nervous.


It was a hot and humid day, and while most people would have been at home or shopping malls, where air conditioners were, Ian Kabra was pacing in the driveway of one of the largest homes in Boston. If a spectator were to have passed by him, he would surely have gotten some weird looks and perhaps even a call to the police due to his constant muttering. Fortunately, the house was in a rather remote area, so Ian did not get arrested.

"You can do this," he was telling himself over and over again. "You are a Kabra. You are confident. You have attempted murder before. This is nothing."

Yes, yes, _gasp, stare, what!_ Ian Kabra was nervous?!

My dear reader, he was about to do something very drastic indeed. Something humans since the beginning of time have feared. Something that may have catastrophic, possibly literal earth-shattering effects.

He was about to confess to his one, true love.

And why was he doing this if it could endanger his life, you ask? For the sake of his feelings.

He shuddered. _Feelings_. What a vile thought. If his mother were still here, he would have spent a week in the dungeons. The first time he was there, it was to watch another man get tortured. His mother had an unsurprisingly large amount and range of knives, and every time he misbehaved as a child, he would be blackmailed into being good with the threat of The Dungeon and-

Anyway, he was not in front of Amy Cahill's house to brood over his experiences.

"Press that doorbell Ian," he encouraged himself. "What could go wrong? The worst she can do is reject me." He laughed to himself nervously. "Rejection can't possibly hurt that bad," he said out loud before remembering the time he nearly had to amputate his leg after he tried to flirt with Amy.

He winced. Ouch.

"Well any-who, I'm already here so I may as well..."

Just as he finally worked up the courage to put a finger on the Bell of Doom, the door flung open.

He blinked.

"Ian?"

He nearly died when he heard her voice. It was melodic and sweet, just like humming birds gathering nectar on a warm day like this, just like the angel of music's voice from that movie, The Phantom of the Opera, except that he was evil and a male. What small differences. He wished she would talk forever, and that was saying a lot considering he hated it when other girls jabbered on about nothing. Her face was the optimum of perfection, what with her lovely cheekbones and perfect symmetry. He loved the freckles on her cheeks, and the gap between her two front teeth. Wait, she didn't have a gap. Did she even have freckles? Well, never mind. Her hair was beautifully braided into the French style and made him want to run his fingers through it. And sniff it. She used such lovely shampoo.

"What are you doing here?"

And lastly, her _eyes_. They were to die for. If there was a choice between her eyes and his life, he would have chosen the eyes. They were nothing compared to him worthless life.

"Ian!" Amy snapped rudely.

"Oh, right," he muttered, shaking himself out of his daze. Clearing his throat, he began his thoughtfully written out speech. "Amy!" he cried, getting down on one knee and flourishing a bouquet of roses in her face. "Forgive me! That time in Korea was nothing!"

She appeared surprised for a moment and Ian thought he had won her over.

_That was simple._

And then she glared incredulously at him and he gulped. "Ian. You left me in a cave to die. I don't think it was 'nothing.'"

"Don't you believe in second chances?" he said, voice cracking like a prepubescent boy.

"No,"she said bluntly.

"But you're a Madrigal!" he said desperately.

"And you're a Lucian. Now leave."

He scrambled up, arms flailing wildly and the flowers flew out of his hands and attacked her face.

"Ow!" she squawked. "What the he-"

"Profanity, darling," Ian hastily interrupted her while trying to brush red petals from her face.

"What's your problem? Why are these so sharp?" she asked, brushing him off and clutching at her cheeks.

"Amy, they're roses. What did you expect?" Ian stated in an obvious tone.

"And it didn't occur to you to dethrone them before giving them to me?" she snarled.

"No?"

She shoved him out the door while still picking thorns out of her cheek. "Now I'm really not going to forgive you."

"Wait!" he called before she shut the door completely.

"What?" she asked, irritated.

"How about a date?"

"Goodbye Ian."

He stared at the shut door before shouting, "I won't be giving up that easily!"

There was no answer.


End file.
